Flight Lieutenant Jack
Hodgins shifted his weight on his bar-stool, one hand propped on his
chin, the other curled around his glass. He shot a crooked smile at
the bartender, a fresh-faced Corporal, and shook his head when the
man tipped the bottle at him in a silent question. He was meeting his
new navigator tomorrow. He sighed, staring into the glass as if it
would give him the answers. That was not an experience Jack was
looking forward to.

His new navigator. A
rookie, fresh out of flight training. He shook his head. At least
they'd found someone who would fly with him this time. A wry grin
curled his mouth as he glanced towards the door, picturing his plane,
his baby, his Helldiver. Quite possibly the biggest piece of crap in
the hangar. Held together by curses, patchwork and prayers. The wry
grin grew wider as he thought about all the planes he could be
flying, given his name and his heritage. The Irishman shook his head
again, wondering how long this one would take before either fear or
frustration drove him away.

The redhead scooped up
his hat, "I'm out for the night, Charlie…" he shot a cheeky
smile at the Corporal, "Can't be meetin' my new navigator with
a hangover, now, so I can't."

The Corporal smiled
back, "OK, sir, take care…" then carried on polishing the
glasses.

Next morning found Jack
standing at a pathetic imitation of parade rest in front of his CO's
desk. Wing Commander Goodman shot Jack a filthy look, which the
redhead returned with a raised eyebrow. The Wing Commander sighed and
shook his head. Both men looked up as the bell above the office door
jangled impatiently. Goodman called a terse 'enter' and looked
back at Jack, shooting him a warning look, as the door edged open.

Jack fought the urge to
roll his eyes as Goodman gave the young man a genial smile, "Come
in, son… This is Flight Lieutenant Jack Hodgins. One of the best
pilots in Her Majesty's Air Force. You'll be flying with him,"
the smile gave way to a curious look, "They tell me you're good,
damn good."

"Yes…" Goodman
drew out, still eyeing off the blushing young man in front of him,
"Well, I'll let the two of you get acquainted. Hodgins, Addy…
you're dismissed."

"Yes, sir."

"Aye, sir."

The two moved out of
the Wing Commander's office, Jack raising an eyebrow at the bags
outside the door. His new navigator had obviously just arrived; poor
bugger hadn't even been shown his barracks yet. He watched as the
boy, Zack, he amended, scooped one rucksack onto his shoulder,
grabbed the other one in his left hand, gathered together a small
pile of maps in his right and sighed in frustration as he realized he
had no hands left to pick up his suitcase. Jack bit back a smile and
reached down, picking up the suitcase himself and heading for the
door, leaving Zack no choice but to follow. Zack blushed and hurried
after him, embarrassed.

"Sir, you don't
have to… I mean… I could've…" he stammered out.

"For starters, lad,
you couldn't have…" the pilot shot him a grin, "You'd run
outta hands," Jack replied, stopping in front of the barracks the
navigator would be sharing with him and nudging open the door.

"Sorry, sir… I
mean…" if it were possible, Zack's face went even redder.

"Another thing…"
Jack sighed, dropping the suitcase by Zack's bed and carefully
helping the other man unload some of his other bags, "Don't be
callin' me 'sir'… I've seen your file, Zack, up until maybe
3 months or so ago, you were a Flight Lieutenant yourself. As far as
I'm concerned, we're as equal as it gets."

"But… sir…" the
young Flying Officer protested.

Jack sighed, "No sir…
I'm Jack… Hodgins if you're cranky with me," he grinned, "So,
most likely, I'll be Hodgins a lot of the time. People tell me I'm
not an easy man to like."

Zack broke into a shy,
unwilling grin, "People can be wrong. But if it's any
consolation, they tell me I'm not an easy person to like either."

The rather unlikely
friendship begun, the two set about unpacking Zack's bags. They
worked in companionable silence for a while, before Jack asked the
question that had been bothering him since the tousle-haired young
man had eased his way into the Wing Commander's office and into
Jack's life.

"What happened?"

"What was that, s…
Jack?" Zack's answer was muffled, his head buried in his second
rucksack.

"You went from Flight
Lieutenant to Flying Officer in the space of, what, two days?" the
redhead said, hanging the other man's dress uniform up in the small
wardrobe next to his own, "What happened?"

He winced as Zack
abruptly went still, "Ah lad, I didn't mean to pry. If you don't
want to tell me, you don't…"

Zack interrupted him,
rocking back on his heels, the bitter smile curling his lips at odds
with the innocence of his face, "I was too good at my job…"

Jack frowned, "They
took away your rank and your job, coz you were good at it?"

Zack shook his head, "I
was a codebreaker. A good one. I've yet to come across a code,
either enemy or friendly, that I can't break in under an hour," a
shy smile curled the corners of his mouth at Jack's impressed
whistle, "And most of my superiors appreciated that."

There was a raised
eyebrow from Jack, "Most?"

"Yes, there were a
few who believed that the only way I could break enemy codes so
quickly is if I wrote them," he rolled his eyes in exasperation,
"Those same few accused me of being a double agent when I pointed
out that I could also break friendly codes written by other
codewriters in the department."

Jack shook his head
sympathetically, "'Tis true… put some costume jewellery on a
man's shoulder and he thinks he can piss Cognac," he grinned at
Zack's surprised snort of laughter.

When their laughter
died down, Jack waved a hand at the other man, "So, why'd they
ditch ya, Zack? Seems to me, you shoulda been the one they held onto
with all they had," a small smile curled the redhead's mouth,
"Not that I'm complainin' a' course… I get myself the best
navigator the world's ever seen, by the looks…"

Zack sighed,
"Codebreaking was too easy. It became repetitive. Then after I was
accused of being a double agent, they began giving me fewer and fewer
assignments," he gave Jack a wry smile, "Quite frankly, Jack, I
got bored."

The redhead gave
another snort of laughter, "In the middle of a war, in the middle
of the greatest intelligence service in the world, breaking enemy
codes, learning enemy secrets… and you got bored?"

A sheepish look was his
answer, before Zack continued, "I tried to bribe other codebreakers
to let me in on their assignments with little to no luck, I was just
too fast. So, in the end, I tried writing codes of my own," his
eyes widened, making his face look younger than it already did, "Not
to use or sell or anything like that, of course…" he added
hastily.

Jack shook his head,
astonished, "And they let you outta their sights?" he shook his
head again as Zack nodded, "Are they mad?! Not only do you break
code, but you write it as well? You're the fastest there is… and
how do they repay you?" Jack ranted, eyes glinting dangerously on
behalf of his new friend, "They not only throw away the best thing
that coulda happened to this country's intelligence service! They
knock you down a peg and put you in this hellhole!"

Zack stared at him in
shock as Jack scowled and shook his head, "Bloody English…
present company excluded, so they are…" he added hastily, accent
growing broader with every word.

Zack could only blink
for a few moments in the wake of his pilot's outburst, before he
blurted out the first thing that popped into his head, "So, it's
true what they say about the Irish, then?"

Jack let out a great
whoop of laughter, doubling over as tears of mirth rolled down his
face, "Ah Zack-lad, don't ever change…" he wheezed out,
between guffaws.

Finally getting his
laughter under control, Jack gave the still-blushing Zack a saucy
wink, "As for my allegedly feisty nature…" the saucy wink
turned into a full-blown grin, "Only if you're lucky, lad… only
if you're lucky…"

Zack was still muddling
his way through that particular comment the next morning when he and
Jack were called before Wing Commander Goodman. The two stood at
their equally appalling attempts at parade rest. The Wing Commander
gave them a look and they straightened self-consciously. Without a
word, Goodman handed Jack two folded pieces of paper, waiting until
the redhead had taken them and begun reading before he spoke.

"These are your
orders, follow them to the letter, do you understand Flight
Lieutenant Hodgins?"

Zack watched as Jack's
eyes grew steadily darker as he read, hands tightening on the papers.
He surreptitiously shifted his weight onto one foot. Watching Jack
out the corner of his eye, he waited until the fiery-tempered Flight
Lieutenant had lifted his head to speak. Then he quickly shifted his
foot over onto Jack's and leaned his weight onto the other man's
foot. Jack gritted his teeth, glancing down at the orders once more,
and speaking quietly.

"I understand
perfectly, sir."

The Wing Commander's
eyebrows flew up into his hairline, "Hodgins, Addy… you're
dismissed."

"Yes sir."

"Aye, sir."

The two walked out of
the room and headed back to the barracks. Staying quiet, Zack moved
to his own part of the barracks, opening his trunk and pulling out
his table maps, spreading them out across his bed. He got up again,
digging through his rucksack, pulling out his smaller travel maps and
tucking them into their waterproof casings. He tucked his compass and
various other bits into their own casings, pausing only when he heard
Jack speak softly.

Jack gave him a wan
smile in return, prompting Zack to quickly change the subject and
ask, "What are the orders?"

Jack handed them to
him. Zack took the slightly crumpled pieces of paper, smoothing it in
his hands. He read the orders quickly, eyebrows flying up into his
hairline. He blinked, looking up at Jack, who was scowling, then back
down at the papers and re-reading them just to make sure. Without a
word, he handed the orders back to the redhead.

"France?" he said
softly.

Jack nodded, "France.
Behind enemy lines too," he separated the second piece of paper
from the first, holding it out to Zack, "Here, you'll need these.
Co-ordinates for the drop and the flight schedule."

Zack gave him a
slightly offended look, "I don't need that," he looked
scornfully at the piece of paper and blinked big eyes at Jack, "I
memorized them."

Jack blinked at him for
a moment, "Wow," then he grinned, "Faith, but you're a
treasure. Come on, you should at least see the plane you'll be
flyin' to France in."

Zack followed him out
to the hangar, marveling at the all the pristine aircraft surrounding
him. A small smile crossed his face as he mentally ticked off the
planes he recognized. TBM Avenger. B-17 Flying Fortress. B-24
Liberator. He frowned as Jack walked past all of these to the very
end of the hangar. Zack's eyebrows flew into his hairline for what
seemed like the hundredth time that day as Jack stopped by the
aircraft he called his. He blinked up at the patched and peeling
paintwork of the SB2C Helldiver that Jack stood under, still a head
shorter than its nose cone.

He blurted out the
first thing that popped into his head, "Good God, do they still let
people fly in those?!"

He was saved as Jack
said, "Go easy, lad, go easy," the redhead smiled up at the
plane, "Allow me to introduce you to 'Patches and Prayers',
affectionately known as 'Patch', a SB2C Helldiver, better known
as a 'Son-of-a-bitch, Second Class'," the Irish-born Londoner
snorted, "Though if you ask me, this piece of crap is a first class
son of a bi…"

"Language, Hodgins!"
came a bellow from the other side of the hangar.

"Aye sir, sorry sir,"
Jack called amiably back.

Zack ducked under the
nose cone, walking around the plane, carefully running a hand over
the tail, up one side and down the other of each wing, then along the
side of the plane until he reached Jack again. Jack gave him a smile,
but his eyes belied his nervousness. He didn't know why he was
nervous. He hadn't been so nervous showing Patch to his previous
navigators. Hell, some of them he hadn't even bothered showing her
to until the day of the mission.

Zack looked back at
Jack, "We should fly across the Channel to Calais, then head
South-Southeast through to Abbeville, then take a more easterly
course across the River Somme. If we run into trouble we can cut
Northeast into Belgium and swing back around."

Jack stared at him,
"How? You haven't even looked at the maps yet!"

Zack shot him another
slightly offended look, before turning back to the plane. He ran his
hand over the nose cone again. He looked back down at Jack, then
glanced back down the line at the newer, shinier aircraft. He gave
Jack a look, then raised an eyebrow. Jack gave him a sheepish smile
in return, running his own hand over Patch's nose cone.

Jack sighed, sitting
down on a step ladder, "Because I want to be someone other than Sir
Alfred's son. I joined the RAF so I could do that," he scowled,
"But himself couldn't even let me do that on my own…"

Zack pulled up a crate
and sat with him, "What happened?"

Jack gave him a wry
smile, "My dad bought my commission. Six months ago I was still a
Sergeant."

A small frown creased
Zack's brow, so Jack hurried on to explain, "I wanted this," he
gestured around the hangar, "to be something that Jack Hodgins,
pilot, did, not something that Jack Hodgins, son of Sir Alfred, did.
But dear old dad couldn't have an enlisted man for a son, Lord no."

Zack still stayed
quiet, but his gaze traveled up to Patch's peeling paintwork,
making Jack smile, "Aye. And that's why they gave me this old
girl. Apparently, I'm," the redhead rolled his eyes and affected
a deeper voice, obviously mimicking the Wing Commander,
"'insubordinate, arrogant, selfish, lackadaisical… Hodgins, so
help me, God…" he grinned as Zack giggled, trying to smother it
with a hand.

The grin lessened
somewhat, "Because of my father, they can't demote me, can't
dishonorably discharge me, can't court-martial me, can't even
discipline me too harshly. My father donates too much money to the
war effort now, and the Air Force in peacetime, for the brass to even
consider annoyin' him enough to withdraw it."

Zack sat quietly for a
moment, processing his newfound information, before standing up quite
abruptly, looking down at Jack with mirth in his eyes, "Does your
list of people with grievances extend to the Supply Sergeants?
Because if we want to leave at dawn tomorrow, we should probably
begin to make ready now."

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